


Titanfall Oneshots

by Skrappi



Category: Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Other, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, give me prompts, oneshots, this is gonna be a dump of things that come to my mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 15:29:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19176166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrappi/pseuds/Skrappi
Summary: A series of oneshots!Feel free to give me prompt ideas!  I want to write more.





	Titanfall Oneshots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt and motivation provided to me by my good friends Exo-3, WwGaming, and Craig on the Starfall server.
> 
> "A Legion and their Pilot starting a second hand furniture store - Legion's Recliners and Furniture."

"Maybe it would look better by the window, bud."

A large, rough metal hand plucked the lipstick-red leather loveseat from where it sat, letting it come to rest in the window on display. The man at the front of the store shifted his weight, his face pensive.

"That's much better. I like it." He offered a thumbs up.

"I do too." A low voice rumbled from across the room. The large Titan took a gentle step backward so as not to crush any of the other furniture.

The man at the front of the shop smiled to his massive mechanical partner. They had come a long way from when they first met all those years ago.

All of those years of needless bloodshed. Of war.

He wasn't a fresh Pilot by any means. Despite being older than the majority of his peers, Pilot Grant was one of the most agile in his division. As such, upon the destruction of his previous Titan, he requested an equally quick companion to fill the void.

So when his superiors supplied him with a Legion-class Titan, he wasn't amused in the least. Fury bubbled up under his collar as he immediately turned, marching to the Commander's operations office and demanding an explanation for this atrocity.

The Legion's optics blinked as his Pilot left. He bent over slightly and fiddled with the smooth digits on his hands. It was his first day. Had he already done something wrong?

After initiating a quick analysis check, he concluded that nothing seemed abnormal. He straightened up as his Pilot returned, looking displeased. The man below him gestured with a loose hand.

"Open up. Looks like I'm stuck with you."

Without delay, his cockpit's hatch opened with a satisfying pop and a hiss. The Pilot paused for a moment.

"I'm Levi Grant." He continued forward, hopping with well-practiced grace into the welcoming maw of the Titan before him.

"Grant." The Legion's simulated voice repeated, seemingly to himself. "My serial designation is HPY-0064."

"Alright. Happy." Grant adjusted himself in the cockpit as the hatch closed above him, "Let's do this Link, Haps."

What followed their successful Neural Link was a blur. Years of action and a growing bond cultivated by the loving hands of adventure and time itself. Grant and Haps were nigh inseparable, even to the point where the Pilot would spend his nights sleeping in his Titan's cockpit. The red leather-backed control chair that the Legion boasted was incredibly comfortable, to be fair.

Getting used to the low and slow fighting style that the Legion-class forced was of course a different issue. Initially it drove Grant nuts, having become accustomed to the high-octane style of the Ronin with his previous few Titans. Happy had noted his Pilot's fingers drumming on the armrests of his chair during missions, so the Titan proposed that they take on an aggressive frontline approach. To 'break the enemy' front and center rather than stay back and do consistent damage from midrange.

The two of them even spent time together working on Happy's footing. Grant, minuscule by comparison to his Titan's massive chassis, stood outside and showed his partner what gentle, purposeful footwork looked like. The Legion's optics picked up his Pilot's movements, and attempted to mimic them.

With practice, the two became a graceful and deadly force on the front line. They danced around their opponents, laying power shot after power shot into their enemies' armor. Anything that still stood after their promenade was finished off with swift rounds from their predator cannon.

It was that practiced grace that made their future even possible.

Talk of retirement evolved from a rare topic to a daily conversation between the two. It was common for a Pilot to retire into a life of luxury and grandeur, but rarely did their Titan follow along the same path. Often they were decommissioned or simply redeployed to become some new Pilot's partner. That didn't sit right with Grant.

When the time for retirement drew even closer, he struck a deal with the higher-ups. He would forego his stipend on the condition that he could take Haps with him. Seeing as the loss of a unit was cheaper than paying out a veteran indefinitely, they agreed.

Happy and Grant talked endlessly about what they wanted to do when they got out. Ultimately they settled on the fact that they would need to get jobs. After what seemed like hundreds of different ideas for how to make their income, their sole inspiration came in the form of the object that had allowed Grant to have so many comfortable nights with his best friend:

That, now worn, lipstick-red leather seat.

The two of them stood side by side in front of their store. The signs were up, the windows were clean, and everything was finished. Grant laid a tired hand upon his partner's leg and gave it an affectionate pat. They did it. Together.

It was their shop.

And Legion's Recliners and Furniture store was now ready for its grand opening.


End file.
